The Art Of Never Looking Back
by Amy's Bookland
Summary: Clary and Jace meet one night and she hates him. However, their love for the piano pulls them together in a most unexpected way. When their family suffers tragedy, their bonds will be tested and friendships tempered. Still trying out stuff so suggestions are more than welcome.


**Hey everyone. I don't even have a plot yet, just going with the flow. Hope you enjoy though.**

 **Clary's Po** **v**

My fingers skimmed over the piano keys lightly, barely touching them, applying a slight pressure every once in a while. The rhythm was one long embedded into my mind, into the depths of my subconscious.

On the case of the grand piano rested a crystal vase, the creases in the glass distorting the reflection of its contents: two lone stems of cherry blossoms, handpicked out of the tree outside, even now scraping at the window.

I stood hastily, halting the tune abruptly and grabbing the blossoms from the vase in a vast commodity of movements and hurling them across the room.

I pulled the rough fabric of a soil coloured robe on, fastening it around my slim shoulders and bursting through the mahogany doors. The corridor blossoming before me had many doors embedded into it, all the same, dark wood and swirling patterns embossed into it, the doorknobs a sickly, cool metal. I, however, took no notice of them as I flew past, turning right at the first bend and left at the next one.

This time, as I had predicted, I was met with a marble arch, giving way to the main foyer. Two walls of the empty room had two different corridors, opposite each other and the one across from me was dominated by another mahogany door, this one twice my size and surrounded by haphazard panes of stained glass and although the colours were so random but fit so well together, they had obviously been placed where they were on purpose.

The black jeans I was wearing swished as I strode over to the door, where a small crowd was gathered. Before making my presence known, I took a few moments to study the people in front of me. With their backs facing me were two figures, cloaks hanging off their shoulders which were the same soil shade as mine. From those cloaks protruded a white-blonde head and a crimson one. My parents. Across from them were four raven-headed figures, two slightly taller than the rest and a small brown-headed eight-year-old standing awkwardly next to them. Off to the side were three golden heads. A particular one enraptured my attention more so than the others, and I took my time studying the boy who looked to be not much older than myself.

Seeing as in Idris, everybody knew everybody, I well knew that the raven-haired family were, in fact, the Lightwoods and the golden-headed ones Herondales.

Sometime during my inquiry, my brother appeared beside me, his white-blonde hair, a perfect harmonization of our father's. His broad shoulder thwacked my own, although it barely came up to his elbow.

"So, do you know why mother and father requested our presence to this mundane of encounters between long lost friends?" he had to slope down in order to relate this in my ear in a hushed tone.

My trilling chuckle at the cynicism laced with the words, however, caught the attention of the troupe before us.

"Ah! Clarissa, Jonathan, I see you have received my message and have been waiting in the shadows, just eager to make your presence known." the amusement in his blue eyes was responded to with a lopsided grin on my face and sheepish tug at the corners of Jon's lips.

"Why, yes father. Indeed we have. In fact, _Clarissa_ here has been tumultuous at the meagre thought of making the acquaintance of our dear guests." his voice oozed sincerity and the look on his face portrayed innocence, but the amused glint in his green eyes gave away the mockery for my earlier observing.

He suddenly groaned in pain and sagged down as my elbow collided with his ribs, which were about as far as I could reach in my short state.

The group's gaze simultaneously came to rest upon my proud stature, a conveyed innocence plastered onto my face. They had remained silent during the exchange but the golden head which had caught my attention earlier stopped leaning on the doorframe but crossed his arms over his taut chest and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Jon still consoling the ribs I had hit.

"Jesus, Clary, you have sharp elbows!" I humphed and shook my head exasperatedly.

"Well, at least that will teach you once and for all, dearest _Jonathan_ , that if you want to keep your fingers resolute in your hands, that you shouldn't call me Clarissa," I whispered, not appreciating the attention I was given. This, however, gave my foreboding newfound hostility.

"Well, shall we head into the dining hall to have dinner." my mother's voice rang out as if nothing had happened, smoothing over the unfit calamity between me and Jon.

As shadowhunters, we didn't invest time and effort into inquiring about each other's lives, although in the end, everyone knew everything, so dinner went on without jeopardy and we were all soon in the drawing room, the piano I had played only a few hours earlier sedentary in one corner, the flowers I had thrown surprisingly gone.

Somehow, the youngest Herondale was settled on the love seat next to mine and was leaning towards me, undoubtedly trying to strike up a conversation.

"So, I'm Jace." his voice reminded me of honey, despite him resembling a lion. I looked away and pursed my lips defiantly, I was not in the mood for meaningless conversation.

"Ok... this is how the conversation is supposed to go: 'I'm Jace." then you say: 'Hi I'm... it is such a pleasure to meet you.' then I say: 'Why the pleasure is all mine.' then you giggle and..."

"Woah, Woah, Woah, let me stop you there. First, it is not a pleasure to meet you and second, I don't giggle. Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to stop this conversation before it escalates even more. " I humphed, and turned away, only to see my brother to my left, raising both of his nearly white eyebrows.

"You know Clary, you make the big brother job so easy. I mean I don't have to scare guys away because you already do that, I don't have to kick their asses if they're being douches because you do that already also. I mean come on, it's almost too easy." I can tell he is mocking me by the seriosity in his tone, the way his voice sounds like he is on the verge of laughing and the corners of his plush lips twitch at the urge to pull up at the corners.

I shake my head and throw my hands up as I come to stand and then start walking away.

"I'll be in my room." my voice catches the attention of the room and I can feel their eyes on my back as I push past the closed door, hurrying my pace.

All the corridors blur as I hurtle past, doors mere darker spots of colour clouding my vision. I stop at one door, different than the others, a tree covering the surface of it in oil paints. I push it open with my shoulder and step inside muttering insults at my bother and Jace as I made my way to the small piano by the window.

My walls are a bright orange, but mostly covered with sketches and pictures, paintings and shelves filled to the brim with brushes and paints and papers and even more papers.

I plop down on the leather seat and my hands immediately come to rest above the white keys. And then they start moving.

 **Jace's Pov**

With Clary gone, the room dulls and I am surprised at the pang in my chest. Jonathan, Clary's brother slides over to occupy her seat and leans towards me.

"My sister is something else isn't she." his voice doesn't give anything away and neither do his face or his tone.

"Sure, I guess, although I could say I don't really know her, considering I only know her name because I heard you say it." my walls are immediately up at the now inquiring and curious look in his green eyes, slightly darker than his sister's.

He just nods. "Come with me." his tone leaves no room for argument and I slowly get up from the cream seat and follow him, my feet soundless on the carpeted floors.

As he turns down numerous corridors, I find myself getting impatient at the lenghth of our journey and his lack of speech during it. A low buzzing sounds in my ears and I wonder if I imagined it.

However, as we walk on, it gets louder and louder until I can make out Etude op.10 no.12 flowing through the wallpapered walls. Chopin. At my crinkled brow, Jon explains.

"It's Clary." his voice is fond and far away as he seems to relive certain happenings from the past.

"I didn't know she could play the piano, let alone Chopin. She must be good." I know my voice rings true and the surprised look on Jon's face surprises me in return.

"Is that what that is? How can you tell?"

"Well, I was playing it just earlier today."

"You play the piano?" at the disbelief I roll my eyes.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." I know I am gloating but I really cannot help it.

 **So this is it so far. This actually took me ages to write because I kept stopping over the course of two weeks almost. Anyway, a pretty boring point to end the chapter at, but I just really wanted to get this posted. Leave a review and I'll give you a shoutout the next time I post.**

 **Love, me.**


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